Rules are made to be broken, or so it seems

IAWOKE on Wednesday morning, which is always something of a plus, and pulled back the curtains to reveal yet another dull, grey, winter’s day. Then, as always, I checked my phone’s news app and before I knew it I was experiencing one of those blue sky moments.

Christmas and my birthday had come early. There was a spring in my arthritic step.

Overnight, Britain had become the first nation in the world to approve a coronavirus vaccine for widespread use. Its rollout could begin as soon as next week. This is what we have been waiting for.

Now, I presume, those of us of a certain age have to just sit tight, not do anything silly, and wait for the call to arms, left or right, then roll up our sleeves and, hopefully, punch this virus on the nose.

Staring back at me from my phone was the face of the Health Secretary Matt Hancock, possibly the most beleaguered bloke in the country since things took a significant turn for the worse back in late March.

Hopefully, this optimistic moment in time will turn out to be (Matt) Hancock’s Finest Hour, rather than Hancock’s Half Hour if he doesn’t get things right.

Anyway, what I had been going to say before I was rudely interrupted with these good tidings of great joy was how intriguing I found the new government description of a “substantial” meal.

Apparently a whole Scotch egg constitutes such a repast according to Environment minister George Eustice and if you are served one to your table in a pub you can wash it down with endless tankards of ale without breaking any of those Covid lockdown tiers rules.

Well, that’s a blessed relief, and we can all thank Mr Eustice for his informed view of the meatball encased boiled egg’s dietary status, thereby allowing potential for a natty circumvention of the latest “stringent” set of rules for licensed premises.

I’m now left wondering whether a pickled egg and a packet of salt and vinegar crisps, served to table, conform to the new rules, too.

But utterances like this on the back of a huge raft of post-lockdown official dos and don’ts should come as no surprise. Because, yet again, as soon as Government declares what their latest stringent guidelines are – someone sets about watering them down and circumventing them within hours.

To curmudgeonly old me it all seems to be becoming a joke, and I do wonder if those boffins who get forced blindingly into the bright lights of national publicity loathe what’s happening. Their expert advice is taken, seemingly acted upon and then quickly ignored.

Those scientists, meanwhile, have already cautioned families to cut out any idea about hugging any of their grannies who pop round for Christmas.

A definite case of “Huddle, cuddle. Bubble, trouble” (with apologies to Mr W. Shakespeare of Stratford-upon-Avon).

Expect further pronouncements in the run-up to that promised land of the great Christmas free-for-all.

Now, away from all political hullaballoo and virus proclamations, I have embarked on one of my own festive traditions – making Christmas crackers.

They’re not that hard, to be honest, but the good thing is you can waste endless hours on the laptop scrolling through sites which cater to folk like me looking for natty gifts to fit inside something the size of a cardboard toilet roll tube.

My childish personal favourite so far is some gooey putty which sounds like a severe bout of flatulence when squeezed.

So, vaccination or no vaccination, if this officially decreed seasonal largesse sends the virus infection rate spinning out of control again it will have been a wrong call to allow the nation to go completely crackers at Christmas. It would be an opportune moment to pull one of my homemade crackers containing a tub of that wind-breaking magic putty. A perfect riposte to such festive folly.

If you are served one to your table in a pub you can wash it down with endless tankards of ale